


The Spy Who Loved Me

by OrangeSeltzer



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Black tie Connor, Black tie Hank, Connor is a mouthy brat, Corruption, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, First Time Blow Jobs, Hacking, Hank gets a makeover, Hank gets in his feelings, Hank loves him and hates him for it, Italian Mafia, James Bond References, M/M, Minor Injuries, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Pacifist Ending, Porn with Feelings, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Rimming, Slow Burn, Smut, Spy Hank, Stealth Kills, Undercover, no beta we die like men, so does Connor, spy Connor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-07 16:06:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15222773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeSeltzer/pseuds/OrangeSeltzer
Summary: “There’s gotta be another way Jeff – I can’t – no one will buy my cover. Look at me! Are you gonna look me in the eye and tell me I’m fucking black tie cocktail party material?! And with Boy Wonder Christian Bale over there as my plus-one? The plan’s bullshit, Jeff!”“ENOUGH!” Jeff’s booming voice reverberates across the room. Meanwhile, Connor’s LED is flashing yellow as he tries to process both the image of Hank in a tuxedo and find who Boy Wonder and Christian Bale are. Christian Bale has played Batman, but never Robin and Connor finds himself increasingly confused by Hank’s description.--------------------------------------------------------------------9 months after the revolution, a contraband android gives Hank and Connor a lead into the upper echelons of Detroit's mafia. Much to Hank's chagrin, a black-tie charity event is their best shot at tracking down the mob. Problem is, Hank doesn't do tuxedos. Connor seizes the opportunity to give Hank the ultimate makeover he never asked for.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I really like the thought of formal Hank and wanted an excuse for him to get that makeover, with Connor helping him regain his confidence. This fic is inspired by James Bond films. Every chapter (except this one) is named after a classic Bond film. This fic is a bit of a slow burn and some of the upcoming chapters are a bit on the long side, but I promise it's worth it ;)
> 
> This is my first fanfic so please go easy on me!

 

“Are you trying to fucking kill me Jeffrey?!”

The loud smack of fists on the desk snapped Connor out of his train of thought. He watched the scene unfold before him – Hank’s heart rate elevated by 25%, teeth gritted and breaths coming out heavy, almost in a low growl. His fists are shaking on Captain Fowler’s desk, as a small pool of spilled coffee starts spreading towards the edge – a detail that hasn’t gone unnoticed by the Captain. Connor doesn’t quite know when he started picking up all of the Lieutenant’s quirks and vocal cues, but it’s what makes Hank, Hank and he can’t help but smile a bit at the sounds he makes when he’s flustered.

Fowler catches him grinning and Connor immediately feigns an innocent look, earning him an eye roll.

“Hank, if it wasn’t for RoboCop over there requesting you as his partner on _all cases_ , I could’ve benched you already.” Fowler explained with thinly-veiled patience.

“So give him another case –“

Fowler sighs. “It’s not that easy. This case involves androids and the upper echelons of organized crime. I mean, look at our guys. You think Reed and Wilson can pose as android experts and take on the entire mafia if shit goes south?”

Hank opens his mouth to speak, but gives a frustrated scowl instead. He knows he’s already lost the fight but that doesn’t mean he won’t get one concession out of Fowler.

“There’s gotta be another way Jeff – I can’t – no one will _buy_ my cover. Look at me! Are you gonna look me in the eye and tell me I’m fucking black tie cocktail party material?! A-and with Boy Wonder Christian Bale over there as my plus-one? The plan’s bullshit, Jeff!”

“ENOUGH!” Jeff’s booming voice reverberates across the room. Meanwhile, Connor’s LED is flashing yellow as he tries to process both the image of Hank in a tuxedo and find who Boy Wonder and Christian Bale are. Christian Bale has played Batman, but never Robin and Connor finds himself increasingly confused by Hank’s description.

“I don’t care if you have to get plastic surgery to fit the part Lieutenant, you ARE going undercover and that’s final! And if you fuck this up on purpose I won’t hesitate to dock your vacation days. Now take your files and get the hell out of my office!”

Hank snatched the briefcase in a huff and stormed out of the Captain’s office, already muttering a string of profanity under his breath. Connor follows him quietly to his desk and takes a seat there. He’s seen the same scene play out over and over – once every few months Hank would be assigned a “bullshit case” that ends up in a shouting match in Fowler’s office. Sometimes Fowler backs down and makes a compromise, but this time the case is too big.

They’ve had an unusually quiet summer, with homicides and android-related crimes at an all-time low. It seemed too good to be true until their last case led them to find a contraband android beneath the rubble of a burned-down warehouse. Contraband androids are strictly illegal as they were never created at Cyberlife HQ, but by highly-skilled criminals who sell them on the black market. These androids usually feature cheap hardware, and this one was no exception. Connor could tell by the horrific damage she sustained from the fire. She was on the brink of shutting down until his quick hands worked to extend her lifespan for a final 10 minutes. It was a tough and blisteringly stressful interrogation - she’s no deviant, but Hank could tell she was suffering. The way she struggled to piece together words, her limbs shaking, plastic skin melted away and exposing frayed wires and bent metal. With 30 seconds remaining, the android finally cracked and gave up one name that shook the department when they heard it: Carlyle Russo.

Connor watches as Hank opens the briefcase and eyes the contents warily. It seems no expenses were spared – they were issued top-of-the line suppressed pistols, fake IDs and identities that were backed by government databases, flashcards of their background stories that corroborate with their fake identities, confidential information on Russo and criminals from the FBI’s most wanted list, 2 kevlar bulletproof vests and an LED dampener - a new invention made to conceal LEDs temporarily for android cops. Hank frowns and immediately walks over to the requisitions officer.

“Excuse me.” Hank spoke, startling the officer from his tablet.

“Y-yes Lieutenant. What can I get ya?”

“There aren’t any blue blood or biocomponents in the briefcase. Think you can grab me a couple of those?” Hank asks, politely.

A look of realization followed by embarrassment graces the officer’s face. “Right away, sir! Sorry about that. 

“All good. Bring one of those core pump units too.” 

“Will do!” The officer chirps as he makes his way to the depot. Hank looks back at Connor who’s giving him the warmest smile. He looks away, heart skipping a beat.

“I assure you I’ll do my best to not get injured, Lieutenant.” Connor says, walking towards Hank, lips still curled. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve seen you jump into too many firefights without my permission to know better.” Hank looks at Connor and offers a fond smile of his own. Connor meets Hanks’s gaze and the android burns the human’s smile and blue eyes into his memory.

“Well the party’s in three days Lieutenant, and I believe you need a suit. Also if I may suggest,” a pause- “a haircut and a shave” Connor says matter-of-factly. Hank’s smile is immediately replaced by a scowl at the mention of a haircut. He’s worked hard to craft this disheveled, washed-up, pissed-off old man look, and now this goddamned android has the nerve to tell him to get his shit together?! His thoughts are interrupted by the snickers of his colleagues in the background. Traitors.

“I’m guessing you’ve already planned out my whole look for me, huh?” He asks tiredly, defeated.

“Correct. I’m not..the perfect judge of event-appropriate clothing but I’ve run approximately 963 simulations of black-tie attire—“

“Jesus, Connor you could’ve left it at “correct”. Now I have to live with the thought of you dressing me up like a Ken doll in that heads of yours”. Connor can tell Hank is blushing as he walks away, probably out of embarrassment. He decides the Lieutenant has had enough discussion of his inevitable makeover, so he goes ahead and books the hair and tailoring appointments as he catches up to his partner.

He can’t wait to see the new Hank tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Connor takes Hank to the hair salon with hints of domestic fluff. Also Connor (and Hank) catch some feelings.
> 
> I always equated android's core pump unit to the human heart, and I imagine most androids would seldom let others touch it. So when Hank gets that core pump unit from the requisitions officer, he'll literally be holding Connor's heart in his hands, and Connor's fine with it because 1) he trusts Hank with his life and 2) whether he's aware of it or not, his heart does belong to Hank.


	2. You Only Live Twice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor share a cute domestic moment in the morning. Hank finally goes to get his haircut and Connor stumbles onto some unexpected feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the amazing support so far!! I'm truly touched and honored that you like this concept and I hope I won't disappoint! xoxo
> 
> Prepare for some backstory and moments of the reflection in this chapter. Slightly long, but necessary for character building :) 
> 
> Check out end notes for what's next and some trivia!

“Wake up, Hank” Connor said in an almost sing-song voice.

Hank groans and shields his eyes from the ray of sunlight that suddenly illuminates his face. It was too early for this shit. 

“It’s Saturday, Connor. Normal people sleep in on Saturdays” grumbles the Lieutenant as he pulls the covers up and over his face. Connor smirks, knowing this would happen. The android calmly walks up to the bed and not-so-subtlety pulls the covers off in one swift motion. Sure enough, Hank’s eyes snap open and the man is up in an instant.

“The fuck, Connor?! Haven’t you heard of privacy?” There’s a faint blush on Hank’s face as he quickly snatches the covers back, scared for a second he was sleeping in the buff. Hank’s eyes quickly flick downwards before he exhales, giving himself a mental fistbump for wearing boxers. When he looks up, Connor’s already leaving the bedroom, wearing _his_ sweatpants, no less. Someone’s getting too comfortable.

“Breakfast is ready. I’ve made your favorite~” Connor chirps. He thinks he can win his favor with strawberry pancakes? _He’s got another thing coming_ , thinks the older male as he heads to the bathroom.

Hank runs the shower and looks in the mirror as he preps his toothbrush and starts his morning routine. The post-it notes are no longer there. Hank tossed them out one morning when he realized he no longer needed to force himself to be optimistic or simply start the day. A lot has changed since the revolution, and surprisingly for the better. He still gets nightmares about that night in Cyberlife, when he had Connor – _his Connor’s_ – life in his hands. Hank never told Connor about Cole, but something inside him believed – maybe wanted to believe – that the android actually cared about him. Cared enough to pick him up from his kitchen floor and save him from choking on his own vomit. Cared enough to risk his developing friendship with Hank by asking him about his suicidal thoughts. So he took a risk, and asked the impossible question. Much to his relief, the real Connor answered in an instant, and even tried to convince him Cole’s death wasn’t his fault.

Finally, after 7 years of emotional suffering -- of numbing the pain and counting down the days, it’s Connor who makes him feel that his life is actually worth salvaging. Why he would risk a chance of failure during the most pivotal point of the revolution just to save one miserable human’s life, Hank wouldn’t know. But he made a pact with himself right then and there that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep Connor safe. And if they make it out alive, do his damndest at giving Connor a free and happy life.   

Hank rinses his mouth and heads into the shower, feeling slightly scared of the thought of losing his long hair and exposing his face for the first time in years. What if Connor’s the one who cuts his hair, he wonders, as he lets out an involuntary groan at the sensation of warm water and the image forming in his head. Connor and his long, elegant fingers, threading gently through grey strands. Soft lips inches away from his own as one hand rests on his neck while the other cups his jaw, tilting his head until he finds the perfect angle. Hank tries to stop his thoughts right there as he feels a familiar pool of nerves forming in his stomach and blood rushing south. Honestly, it’s his fault for getting into this whole mess by letting the android stay with him. He had been (begrudgingly) attracted to Connor since the day he met him, but who wasn’t? It’s wasn’t remotely fair the way they designed him with those warm, cinnamon eyes, perfectly sculpted body and this smart-talking, charming personality where he can _wink_ and not realize what people would _do_ for that kind of attention. And dammit if Hank didn’t enjoy watching Connor come into his own, contradicting everything he was made to do. A top-of-the line killing machine who makes a conscious decision to show mercy towards the helpless. Programmed to always put mission before self, only to sacrifice leads to save human lives. A deviant hunter who had the courage to defy his creators to become a person in his own right.

…The most adaptive AI created by Cyberlife, who legitimately struggled to make small talk and pick up on innuendo the first time they worked together. The memory still gave Hank a chuckle.

_There’s a word for these emotions, Hank. You know the one._

His logical brain reminds him. No, he won’t indulge it. What him and Connor have right now is a great thing. The perfect friendly dynamic at home and at work: no drama, no discomfort, no heartbreaks. Just a normal life, like they both deserve. He won’t risk fucking it up no matter what little evidence he’s collected of Connor possibly getting attached. He knows what Connor deserves and it’s more than him: he needs an equal; a real catch.

When Hank steps out dressed in a faded Black Sabbath t-shirt and pajama bottoms, he smells fresh coffee and pancakes as he walks towards the kitchen. Connor’s already plated the food, poured the coffee and fed Sumo. He sits down at the table as Connor notices his shirt and decides to play some ‘Paranoid’ in the background, earning a grin from Hank who takes a bite of the fluffy pancakes. Goddamn android knows just how to butter him up.

Connor sits beside him and sips on his own mug of coffee. Androids were given the ability to drink fluids and eat certain foods, and after many mornings spent making coffee, Connor developed a taste for it. After a couple more bites, Hank faces the android and notices he’s wearing a white and burgundy henley shirt. It’s definitely not one of Hank’s – it fits him too well. Connor catches on and looks down at his shirt, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Is…something wrong, Hank?” he asks curiously.

“Huh? Oh nothing…just haven’t seen you wear that top before.”

“It’s custom made for androids. Markus has a friend…he used to work in a clothing factory before the revolution. I can change its color based on my thoughts.” Connor spoke, clearly excited to talk about his shirt. It wasn’t so long ago that Connor didn’t know to buy his own clothes, or own anything that belonged to him. Hank took the initiative to teach him about his newly-gained rights, including the right to own personal property and items. It took Connor a while to get started, but now he’s accumulated a sizable collection of his own stuff, which he proudly scattered across every room in the house.

Hank gave an impressed huff. Technology and its wonders, man. Why was he even surprised.

“Seriously? Lemme see it”.

Connor’s LED blinks yellow for a few seconds and all of a sudden, the henley is blue and black.

“Jesus Mary and Joseph…”

Connor breaks into a light laugh that Hank loves as he changes the colors faster now, blue merging into green, then yellow, red, purple. All the while looking at Hank’s expression of awe at him performing what is an extremely basic operation. His henley looks like a messy rainbow by the end of it.

“Alright, alright, calm down before you break it. I don’t wanna know how much it cost ya,” Hank teases.

“Your makeover is a suitable payment.” Connor replies, semi-serious. Hank lets out an exasperated sigh as his head drops, feigning frustration.

“Fuck, I was hoping you were just putting on a show for the guys about that shit!” he makes one final plea.

“Nope, your first appointment’s at 11. I’d say you should start getting ready, Lieutenant.” Connor insisted, wearing a shit-eating grin.

Hank grumbles before letting out “Sumo, attack” as he leaves to change.

************************************************************************************

It took them 20 minutes to reach the hairdresser in her downtown studio. Hank felt a knot forming in his stomach as they walked up to the door. He’s never been a man of means and this place definitely looks _too_ fancy for him. Like crystal chandeliers, plush velvet seats and flutes of champagne kind of fancy.

Connor walks in first and greets the receptionist at the counter.

“Good morning. Appointment for Hank Anderson with Sylvia at 11am.”

The android receptionist’s LED blinked and she nodded and gave a smile.

“Welcome, Mr. Anderson. Please come with me to get your robes. Sylvia will be with you in a minute.”

Hank gives Connor a look of skepticism before following the receptionist to the walk-in closet. Once he’s in a robe, another receptionist comes up to him offering a glass of champagne and water.

“Would you like some refreshments?”

Hank knows he’s been cutting down on alcohol under Connor’s (heavy) advisement, but the thought of cutting his hair and exposing his face is kind of giving him a small panic attack.

He takes the champagne with a ‘thank you’ while avoiding eye contact with Connor. Like a practiced veteran, he knocks back a generous swig and downs the glass in one go. His ears start to pick up a quick set of footsteps coming his way.

“Sorry for the wait, Mr. Anderson. I’m Sylvia and I’ll be your stylist for today. It’s nice to meet you!” spoke a warm, perky voice. Her energy level is almost as disturbingly high as Connor’s on a Saturday morning, which leads Hank to conclude that she’s probably an fellow android.

Hank turns around to find a lavender-haired woman wearing a modest, yet stylish red dress extending her hand. She beams at him with a set of light aqua eyes, a color that humans could never have. _Bingo._ Hank shakes her hand and exchanges pleasantries before Connor steps up to greet Sylvia too. She instantly puts her hands on Connor’s shoulders and Hank realizes they’ve met before.

“Connor, it’s so good to see you again. I’m glad you finally brought your friend” she says with a slight tease in her voice as her eyes flick towards Hank for a second. Connor feigns a cough, lips tightening slightly to hide his embarrassment. Was Hank seeing things or is Connor flustered?

“It’s good to see you too, Sylvia. Thanks again for taking us last minute,” Connor replies before lowering his voice to a whisper “Hank and I are going to a black-tie event tomorrow and we need to look the part. Party’s at a mansion in Bloomfield Hills..” Sylvia gives a low whistle.

“Explains why you came to me” she responds knowingly, “So basically you need to look like a pair of rich millionaires with a hint of a midlife crisis.”

“Something like that. Rich millionaires who made their fortune selling to government agencies” Connor answers back with a smile. Technically they’re going undercover as arms dealers from an elite mercenary company, but who cares about minor details?

Sylvia nods along, asking one final question “And what will you fine gentlemen be wearing?”

“Tuxedos” Connor replies.

Sylvia’s eyes drift over to Hank and before he knows it, she’s taking his face into her hands and tilting his head left and right like he’s a specimen. _Oh god, is she scanning me too?_  Hank thinks for a couple more seconds before she lets go. There’s a glint in her eye that wasn’t there before. What exactly did she see in those 10 seconds?!

“Okay, I need him for 2 hours and then we’ll do your hair, alright darling?” Sylvia says to Connor, who nods.

“Wait, you didn’t tell me you’re leaving me here to suffer alone!” Hank gasped, giving an incredulous look to Connor as if he kicked a puppy. It earned a hearty chuckle from Sylvia.

“Sorry Hank, I got some errands to run. I’ll be back in 2 hours though, I promise!” Connor says, heading rather hastily towards the door. Hank knows he’s hiding something when he does that. The grown man shakes his head and reluctantly makes his way to Sylvia, who guides him to his seat. 

“You’re in good hands, Hank. I know a silver fox when I see one.” She says with a hint of amusement. Hank scoffs.

“That’s very kind but..you’ll be the first.” Sylvia chuckles again and shakes her head.

“Oh, I’m definitely not the first” she says cheerfully and looks at the door swinging behind Connor.

************************************************************************************

Connor’s mind is buzzing as he makes quick strides through the downtown crowd towards his destination. He wonders what haircut Sylvia would go with, and how Hank’s whole face would look with it. He’s only ever seen the Lieutenant with the same haircut and grizzled beard in the 9 months they’ve lived together, and his heart won’t stop whirring as hundreds of simulations of Hank in different haircuts flash through his mind. Still, those are just simulations limited to his imagination. For the first time, Connor can’t anticipate the end result – and the realization that he could see a new side of Hank that he’s never thought of greatly excites him. Before long, his sensors picked up the entrance to the suit shop and marked its spot until he arrived.

The chime of a bell rings through the store as Connor steps in. He scans the old, Victorian-style interior of the suit shop as the scent of resin and leather hits him like a wave. This place was highly recommended on the Jericho 2 database, a proprietary search engine created at Markus’ new HQ. The owner of the shop, an Android named Toby, is one of few tailors who can make made-to-measure suits at a fraction of the time. Connor hears footsteps approaching as a well-dressed android with ginger hair emerges from the backroom.

“Welcome! You must be Connor?” Toby asks bluntly in a smooth, British accent. An older model, built to resemble a British butler. _How cliché_ , Connor thought, yet he feels oddly comfortable in his presence. Connor greeted him back politely, still getting used to being a recognized in the android community.

“You’re here for the tuxedos, two shirts and custom oxfords, yes? Please, follow me.” Toby bows his head as he leads Connor into the studio.

Connor has never been to a suit shop before. On all of his shopping trips with Hank, these were the one place the Lieutenant avoided like the plague, often grumbling about it being overpriced and too stuffy as they walked by. Connor can see how Hank’s brazen, free-spirited personality doesn’t exactly mesh with a suit, but the pieces on display here are of a completely different caliber compared to conventional stores. 

He walks up to the mannequin in the middle of the room displaying a deep navy tuxedo with perfectly cut lapels colored just a touch lighter. It makes the suit shine without being overly bright or gaudy – masculine and warm, strong but subtle – just like Hank. Connor caresses the top of the jacket, enjoying the feel of high-quality fabric underneath his fingers and analyzed its form, concluding it would hug the Lieutenant’s broad shoulders just right. As his eyes trace down towards the torso, the mannequin transforms into Hank in his mind’s eye. The suit ends just a bit below Hank’s hips – the perfect length for Hank’s slightly elongated torso. The cut of the pants are fitted but not too tight – they make Hank’s legs look longer, proportional to his upper body, and hugs his thighs and calves. Suddenly Connor feels his mouth go dry, but keeps going. 

Connor then turns around to view the side and back of the suit. He runs his hands down the back and watches as the suit curves and cinches around his imaginary Hank. His hands stop when they reach what would be Hank’s lower back, just above his glutes. Connor’s breath hitches, suddenly feeling a wave of emotion rushing through him that he can only interpret as _desire_. Desire to be close to Hank. To hold him, bathe in his aura and feel every living _inch_ of him. System instability and error marks flash red across his vision before he shuts his eyes and force quits the program running Hank’s projection. The whole process is done in a matter of nanoseconds but it was long enough for Toby to pick up, and Connor gingerly steps away from the mannequin to hide his face.

“You did an excellent job. The tuxedo’s perfect, I have no need to see the rest of them.” Connor feels slightly guilty for coming off cold. 

Toby smiles politely and begins packing up the suits. Connor doesn’t move an inch, accepting the uncomfortable silence that’s starting to build up. It lasts about a minute and a half before Toby finally breaks it. 

“Before the revolution, I worked for years as an apprentice under my owner. He’s a relic like me. In fact, he founded this shop,” his warm, British accent fills the room and Connor starts to feel the tension lift just a little bit.

“When you’ve seen as many clients as I have, you start to pick up on things,” Toby continues as he neatly tucks the suits and shirts into garment bags with practiced ease.

“It’s almost never about the suit. It’s about what they can _become_ in the suit. It’s a reflection of what you see in him, and who he is to you.”

Connor turns and looks at Toby, brows slightly furrowed and LED blinking yellow. He wonders if he’s really that transparent, because if he is, Hank would already know he’s been feeling this way for quite a while. Of course he sees Hank as nothing less than the best. He’s the best thing that’s happened to Connor in his entire life, however short that may be so far. He wants Hank to know that, and better yet, believe in himself and see himself the way that Connor does.

“Whoever he is, he’s very lucky to have you,” Toby speaks understandingly, handing Connor an expertly-wrapped package while looking up at the taller android.

“Do try to avoid damaging the merchandise, Mr. Connor. I think your employer might find the cost of repair to be rather…unpalatable” he finished with a wink.

Connor mutters a ‘thanks’ under his breath and swiftly exits the store, suddenly overcome with an urge to be alone and _think_.

A few blocks down from the tailor, Connor’s timer appears in his field of vision counting down 59 minutes until Hank’s haircut is finished. Perfect. He can take a taxi home, put away the suits, pet Sumo and run some quick diagnostics before he goes back to the source of his software instability: Hank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: The big reveal! Connor reacts to Hank's new look and the dynamic duo prepare for their mission.
> 
> Notes / Trivia:  
> \- I imagine if Hank's a heavy metal fan, he might've been introduced to metal by his parents who were listening to bands like Black Sabbath in the mid 80's  
> \- In my headcanon, Hank would be totally into the psychedelic rock tracks from OG Black Sabbath plus some of the really big headbangers like Heaven and Hell from ex-Ozzy Black Sabbath. Like teenage Hank probably got stoned to psychedelic rock constantly  
> \- He's also a total sucker for overtly sweet flavors like strawberry or chocolate. Dude would kill for a baklava.  
> \- Bloomfield Hills is a real neighborhood filled with really affluent people north of downtown Detroit  
> \- It's not totally spelled out here, but Connor and Markus are friends who still stay in touch after the Revolution. Connor went to live with Hank right after the revolution, but he helped Markus set up Jericho 2 and a did couple of other favors out of niceness but also guilt  
> \- Jericho 2 isn't just a new HQ, it's also a place where androids began developing new technologies specifically designed to help androids. Like Android Google, Android Yelp, and other proprietary tech which will come later in the story...


End file.
